A Little Less Conversation
by Tom Beaumont
Summary: OneShot. FutureSet.  AND NEVER GONNA HAPPEN.  On a sleepless night, Cristina wonders why George proves so irresistible to so many. Rated Kplus for something that is, well, NEVER GONNA HAPPEN.  Originally written for a LiveJournal fic exchange.


_**Tom Sez:**_ _Y' know, it's funny. I always wanted to do a George/Cristina story, just to see what would transpire between these two. (They called me MAD at the institution...) They're such polar opposites...Bambi meets a champion hunter, so to speak. The mods of **greysexchange **at LiveJournal gave me a chance to do one a while ago, and I was surprised by the results. _

_See, my original concept was a million miles removed from this; it was much darker, with an R-rated sensibility. I also disliked it tremendously. So much in fact, that I scrapped it, and started over, keeping exactly ONE plot point _(figure out which one and win my heartfelt congratulations_), and guess what? My do-over turned out to be a genuinely sweet, PG-rated story; the tables get turned in an interesting way, I think. _

_Take a gander at a future-set, will NEVER EVER happen imagining of - what pithy pairing nickname to give them? -_** O'Yang**_, I guess...or maybe _**Crorge**_?  
_

_(INSERT HILARIOUS DISCLAIMER COMMENT HERE)_

* * *

**A Little Less Conversation**

A sliver of light woke George O'Malley from his sleep. He squinted into it, and noticed the outline of a woman in his doorway. As his pupils adjusted to the shadows, he recognized the curly locks and the long limbs. "Cristina?" he asked. "What are you doing in here?"

She entered the room and closed the door behind her, with a soft and careful click. "Meredith is snoring," she groaned. "Sounds like a rusty chain saw. I cannot sleep next to that."

George frowned. His housemate had apparently stopped using her throat spray. "Ah. What time is it?"

Cristina replied too quickly. "Two-eighteen a.m." Then she kicked off her shoes and climbed into his bed.

As she was tucking herself in, George's eyes widened. "What...what are you doing?"

"I need a place to crash," she replied. "And Meredith says that you're a better sleep aid than a glass of warm milk with a Nytol chaser."

George grimaced. "Fine. Just...fine." He rolled onto his side.

Cristina tapped him on the shoulder. "Could you scoot over a bit?"

George groaned. "Scoot over?"

"Yeah, please," his bedmate said.

He gritted his teeth. "Fine," he grunted, and slid across the mattress a few inches.

"Thank you," she replied. Then she rolled over and pressed her supple body against his back.

"Okay. What are you doing?" George asked, his voice suspicious as he felt a slender arm draping over his stomach.

"I'm spooning you," Cristina replied.

"Why?" he asked.

"George," Cristina explained. "I spoon. It's what I do. It's how I sleep. Meredith doesn't mind."

"You may have noticed that I'm not Meredith," George muttered.

"Yes," she replied. "I have noticed. But not many boys have minded my spooning, either."

"Cristina..."

"George..."

His groan was less pronounced now. "Fine. Spoon me. Wrap a leg around me. I don't care. I just wanna sleep."

Cristina nodded. "Me, too."

"Good," George said. "Let's just – sleep."

They lay in silence for awhile. Cristina listened to him breathe. Her arms couldn't help notice that his pudginess had been replaced by a rather nice muscle tone. For some reason – exhaustion, maybe? - she found herself asking, "You know what I heard?"

"What?" he mumbled.

She decided to finish the thought. "You're a great kisser. Very gentle. Giving. Little to no swapped spit, too. That's what."

George's body turned under her arm. "Who told you that?" he asked the ceiling.

"Someone," she replied.

"First, I'm a great sleep aid, now..." George frowned at her. "Who told you?"

Cristina grinned. "I'm not telling."

"Nice. I share my bed with you, I scoot over for you - "

She noticed his tone growing a little more playful, so she decided to keep going. "Someone on the nursing staff."

"That's all I get? Someone?"

Cristina giggled mischieviously. "Well, her and - "

"And? There's an and - "

" - and Meredith. She says you've got the softest lips." The corners of Cristina's mouth turned up.

George closed his eyes. "What is this?"

"It's...talk. You know. Chit-chat. Conversation."

"Conversation," George said in disbelief. "Now."

"Yeah. Oh, and Izzie. She really liked kissing you," Cristina smirked. "Wouldn't shut up about it while you two were an item."

George pulled his pillow over his face and screamed into it. Then he put it back under his head. "Seriously, I wish people would stop dragging her into my life." He turned his eyes to Cristina. "We're done. So very done. She's moved on, found someone else..."

"...who looks and acts exactly like you..." Cristina smiled.

"He's nothing like me," George said sourly. "Nothing."

Cristina still wanted to play. "Do I detect the acid-tipped tongue of jealousy?"

"No," he replied flatly. "Cristina, you detect nothing but my disdain for this...conversation." He turned away from her again. "I have to be awake in four hours. I want to sleep. Leave me alone."

Cristina felt her heart sink a bit, and she wondered why, so she tried to keep him going. "I'm just saying, George, that many women have had the pleasure of kissing you. I have not been one of them, and I'm starting to wonder if I missed out on something."

Suddenly, George's head spun to face her again. "Oh, jeez. This is about Burke."

Cristina's smile vanished. "No," she said.

"Yes, it is," George said, amazement trickling into his voice. "Two and a half years after ditching you..."

"Really?" she asked. "I haven't been keeping track."

George shook his head. "Liar."

"I'm going to sleep," Cristina muttered.

George's voice had a golly-gee tone to it. "As I was recounting...the ex-fiance reappears, now happily married to a debutante, and proceeds to show off pictures of their twins to everyone, including you..."

"Shut up, George," Cristina said, turning away from him.

"So now, you're face-to-face with being alone, and what better revenge against him than to break off a piece of his one-time apprentice?" George's grin was clear in his tone.

"This isn't about Burke or that bubble-brain or their spawn. Or breaking off a piece of anything."

"Yeah, sure. My ex is just dating someone I hate. Yours rebounded into a life-long commitment."

"Shut up, George," Cristina hissed, getting out of the bed. "I did not come in here to get into some stupid discussion about the man who broke my heart, and then decided, at just the right moment, to walk back into my life and make me miserable again. Or to have you make fun of me." She grabbed the doorknob, but just couldn't make herself turn it.

George rose from the bed and started toward her. "No. You came here to kiss me." His voice was gentle.

Cristina turned and flattened herself against the door. "I came here to sleep," she said. "To get away from Meredith's snoring."

"True," George replied. "But you also came here to kiss me."

She seemed to push herself harder against the door, not trying at all to leave, as she whispered, "Let me go. I'm tired. I want to sleep. You want to sleep."

George smiled. It radiated kindness, and made Cristina feel warm inside. "Shh," he said, stepping closer to her. "You know I'm miserable. You see me everyday. You saw how Izzie left me. How it...cracked me wide open. But what hurt more – much more - was that she moved on with such...ease. I thought I was special to her. She was special to me. And now, I'm miserable and dumped-out and sad. But mostly, I'm alone. And I don't really like that." He reached out a hand and touched her cheek. "Then you came in to my room, and you laid next to me, and start talking about what a great kisser I am...what you've heard...who you've heard it from. I didn't want to hear you talk...but I didn't want you to stop, either." He leaned closer to her. "'Cause we're two sides of the same lonely coin. And maybe you were just talking to hear yourself talk...or to have someone to play with...but maybe, just maybe, you want – no – need someone to kiss you. Even if it's me." George put a hand on her hip, and lifted her chin with his other one, so their eyes would meet. "Do you need me to kiss you, Cristina?" George asked.

Cristina found herself trembling just a little. She wanted to speak, but instead, bit her lower lip and nodded.

He leaned his face closer, and gently pressed his lips to hers. The sweetness of the kiss blossomed as they breathed, and their lips melded together, longer and deeper. Her arms wrapped around him as their clinch grew tighter, and she sighed with joy as she felt energy rush to every inch of her body.

Finally, the kiss broke, and they stared at each other for a moment, noticing their mutual glow.

"That was – pretty – uh – disappointing, actually," Cristina said, trying to conceal her gasps. "I mean, I don't know what I was expecting, but it was – you know," she added, wetting her lips.

"Yeah," he said. "I wasn't really – uh – in my zone there."

"You wanna maybe – try it again?" she asked. "'Cause I am more than willing to give you a second chance at that."

George mock-shrugged. "I suppose. Second chances are always good.."

"Yeah," Cristina said, wrapping her arms around him again, this time savoring his embrace. "One more thing."

"Mm-hmm?" he sighed in response.

"Tell anyone," she said softly, "and you are a dead man."

Then they shared a little laugh, just before their lips met again.

**The End**


End file.
